


My Body Betrays Me

by InsominiacArrest



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Cuddling, Developing Relationship, Humor, M/M, Movie Night, Sickfic, some anxiety issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2018-05-15 23:59:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5805406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsominiacArrest/pseuds/InsominiacArrest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kenma has a problem: summers are hot and winters are cold.</p><p>Or the story of how Kenma's body sort of sucks at regulating heat and other functions and Kuroo is strangely attentive for someone who is not-his-boyfriend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Three Person Couch

**Winter**

Kenma Kozume has a problem: summers are hot and winters are cold.

 

This doesn’t sound like a real problem for normal people, just put on a sweater or dunk your head in ice. But it was an all the time thing, blue lips, sweating, never quiet comfortable in his fluctuating skin--since despite being technically an athlete, Kenma’s body is complete junk.

 

His hands are never warm, and his body tires so easily he’s afraid he’s already sixty. Not to mention the fact anytime someone stared at him for too long or asked him any direct questions his heart stutters like the engine of a car about to stall.

 

No, Kenma was not a fan of his body.

 

He was experiencing a particularly bad case of the shivers when he sits down in the center of his friends couch on a Saturday night. He he rubs his fingers together mutely and picks up his phone while observing the scene around him.

 

“Is Oikawa coming?” Yamamoto asks as he prepares a box of snacks: mostly some gum substance too hard to chew and too bright to describe.

“He said he’d might stop by.” Yaku contributes as he kneels by the Wii, trying to fiddle with the wires.

 

“If whoever he’s after gets away.” Kuro drawls.

 

Kenma concentrates on the game on his phone, he had two more levels before the special item drop would appear on the replay of the app.

 

“Good. Hopefully he doesn’t bring them here, I’m not giving up my place on the couch.”

 

Kenma was in his last hp bar, but he manages to take out the ghoul in one hit.

"Like he'd bring them to the couch. No one likes the couch."

Kenma takes a healing item and watches his character restored to full health. He equips new armor as the room fills with the idle banter of the older boys.

Kenma was in his last year of high school and the past third years had graduated, and consequently gotten an apartment together out of convenience. Kenma followed where Kuroo went, so he ended up with them on plenty of weekends.

“Speaking of which, scoot over Kenma, I dibbed the middle seat already.” Yamamoto, who had also stopped by on a whim as well, pushes on his shoulder.

 

Kenma gets up and then folds himself onto the floor. It is a hard and unforgivingly surface, chilled against his skin but tolerable if he didn't think about it.

He is of course exiled from the his seat since the four-man apartment (Kuro, Yaku, Oikawa, and Bokuto of all people) had a serious problem: a three-man sofa for all four of them--and any guests.

“We’re going to get a bigger one of these, I swear,” Kuroo murmurs as he pat the side of the brown well-loved plush furniture.

 

“You say that every time I come here,” Kenma finds himself commenting.

 

“Psh, and one day it will be true. Now,” he leans his lithe body across the space between them, “get off the floor, you’ll catch your death.”

 

“I thought Yaku was the mom here?” Yamamoto teases. Kuroo ignores him and wraps his large hands around Kenma’s chest.

 

“Mmm,” Kuroo sounds as Kuroo scoops up Kenma into his lap. Kenma doesn’t take his eyes off his game but complies, bending soft into Kuroo’s hard-edged body.

 

“So, what are we watching?” Yamamoto asks excitedly while stuffing the snacks into his mouth.

 

“Yaku’s pick.” Kuroo explains.

 

“Oh.” Soft horror it was then.

 

Kenma goes to put down his game, but Kuroo is faster and he extracts it from his hands, touching on his fingers as he does, “jesus!” He exclaims, “your hands are freezing Kenma.”

 

Kenma nods absently as if to say, ‘what did you expect?’

 

The older boy laces his hands over Kenma’s and holds them close to his body. “Can someone go get us a goddamn blanket?” Kuroo calls over before Yaku can take a seat.

 

“Seriously?”

 

“Unless you my friend, Mr. Pre-med, are ready to do frostbite surgery.” Yaku makes a face but hops to their closet and retrieves a moth bitten thick brown comforter.

 

Kenma nods his head at Yaku in thanks. He feels like should resist or something, but it is too late and Kuroo is already wrapping the blanket over the both of them.

 

“If you turned the heat up, maybe this could be avoided…” Kenma points out.

 

“Oh, Kenma, when you are an adult and pay heating bills you won’t say such silly things.” Kuroo shakes his head at him and Kenma elbows him the gut and they almost start to butt heads when Yaku tugs on them.

 

“Oi! get ready, this one is going to make you want to crawl back into your mother's womb in fright.”

 

Kenma resists the urge to roll his eyes and lets the movie start.

 

It is dark and edgy in all the ways 13 year olds trying on gothic aesthetics for the first time is.

 

Kenma can almost feel himself dozing off by the second scene, his body was like that, tired before he even started. Kuroo keeps his hands clasped around his middle and over his own fingers.

Kuroo buried his nose into Kenma’s hair and whispered the way he did so no one would look at them, “so, who's going to die first?”

 

Kenma quirks a smile, “the one with dyed blonde hair.” He says just loud enough, “too much sex. Not enough scenes with the lead.” He explains simply.

 

“What was that?” Yaku leans over from his place at the other end of the couch, Yamamoto jumps as the music on screen falsettos.

 

“Blondey is gonna die first.” Kuroo announces.

 

“How do you know?” Yamamoto snaps.

 

“I have actual brains on my side.” He gestures to Kenma and gathers him closer to his chest. Kenma can feel a prickle of pride, if their was one thing he could read it was people, even in the movies.

 

The scenes of the movie unfold like wadded up pieces of paper: messily and out of order, with plenty of teenage screams.

 

By the time the suspense scenes arrive Yamamoto is shaking, Yaku is beaming in glee, and even Kuroo is grasping on Kenma’s hands until his knuckles bleach a little whiter.

 

A knock comes at the door, two of them jump.

 

They exchange glances, Kuroo pauses the TV, “must be Oikawa,” Yaku mutters as he gets up, “the _git_.”

 

He makes it to the door in the a few strides and Kenma can hear a collage of voices outside mixing into a low murmur. Kenma tenses up, Oikawa was not alone.

 

He leans closer to Kuroo unconsciously, only to have that older boy almost fold him two as he bends over to grab at the Swedish fish on the table.

Kenma makes a little strangled noise and Kuroo chuckles, Yamamoto just stares at them.

 

“Oh,” Yaku says from the door, “you brought people.”

 

“Of course,” Oikawa parades into the room, “what kind of Saturday night would it be without company?” He announces with a flourish and most likely a blinding white grin.

 

Yamamoto snickers behind his hands, “he totally struck out with someone.”

 

Kenma can feel the glare Oikawa lands on them from there.

 

“Hey, hey, hey, we brought snacks!” Bokuto, of course. Kenma thinks to himself they have enough food for night already, but doesn't say anything.

 

“Hey! You’re back from your folks place.” Yamamoto comments and the room descends into a mild buzz of chatter, Kenma picks up his phone again.

 

Oikawa, Bokuto, Iwaizumi and--Kenma blinks, no.

 

“Lev,” one of them greets. The tall boy waves at the group ecstatically.

 

“We found this stray making his home and he insisted on following us.” Kenma shrinks down, hoping the excited puppy of a man wouldn't come bounding up to him.

 

Lev eyes their place up and down, “the upperclassmen’s place is small.” He declares right off the bat.

“Don’t say that,” Yaku chastises him per usual.

 

The room is white noise and Kenma tries to concentrate on his game to suppress it.

 

Kuroo strikes up a back and forth with Oikawa, but keeps Kenma firmly placed in his lap and one hand clasped around his hip.

 

“...and I told her, not today sweetheart.” Oikawa lilts, _buzz_ ,

 

“Lev! Don’t touch that,” something crashes to the floor, _buzz_ ,

 

“Sure, we’re _good_ , but coach Nekoma is retiring next year, and of course me and Kenma are,” _Buzz_ ,

 

Kenma tenses and starts to feel sick, this was not his plan for a Saturday night, even if he knew all these people.

 

He’s prepped to stand up and bolt out of the room when Kuroo rubs his back in small circles and grounds him to the couch.

 

“We should finish the movie.” Finally someone inputs and Kenma relaxes slightly, his shoulders loosening and game releasing from his hands.

 

“Start from the beginning,” Lev complains as he strides to the couch, “oh! Kozume-san!” He crows as he spots him, and positions himself at his feet. “I didn’t see you there.”

 

Kenma looks down at him, “hello Lev, did you finish that extra-practice for tonight?”

 

He expected him to wilt but Lev just nods happily, “I was even going home when I saw these guys, the pretty boy,”

Oikawa snorts, “well said.”

“And owl man.” Bokuto squawks.

“And I found my way here, you are here too, Kozume-san, we should sit as a team-”

 

“Will you get down Lev, you’re too tall, sit on the floor.” The lanky boy is reprimanded and pushed to the floor as they try to start up the movie again, this time from the beginning, the crew settles around the TV. Lev is pushed to the side, Iwaizumi stands in the back, and Bokuto looks like he was already asleep on the couch arm. Oikawa was leaning on the back of the sofa nonchalantly.

 

“What’s this about again?” Oikawa nearly whines while looking at his phone.

 

“Kids dying.” Kuroo explains.

 

“A monster with too many teeth,” Yamamoto practically vibrates.

 

“The blonde one dies first.” Kenma inputs.

 

“Oh?” Iwaizumi raises an eyebrow.

 

“Kenma can predict movies.” Kuroo explains with a hint of pride in his voice.

 

Kenma nods, they prompt him for the names the character in the order of who was going to be offed. It seemed a little obvious to him so the attention didn’t sting too badly.

It helped that Kuroo nodded along the whole way through.

 

“That’s amazing Kozume-san!” Lev cheers.

 

Oikawa peers down at him, “are you ever going to re-dye your hair?” He changes the subject as he weaves his fingers through the smaller boy's locks. Kuroo swats his hand away.

 

“Who would be the first to die in this room?” Yaku asks morbidly while eyeing the back of Lev’s head, who was still practically in the way of the TV for him.

 

Kenma thinks momentarily and then juts his finger up, “him.” It was a simple enough question.

 

Oikawa jumps, nearly dropping his phone as the room dwells on the setter, Iwaizumi starts laughing almost immediately and people start to join in.

 

“Your face, like uwa,” Yamamoto imitates him and the snickering increases.

 

“Too much sex and ego.” Kenma explains quietly, the group guffaws increase and Kuroo ruffles his hair.

 

“Who next?” Oikawa replies tersely, trying to draw the attention away.

 

Kenma taps his chin, “either Lev or Yamamoto.” He expands factually, “too much noise.”

 

The crowd was getting into it now, “and not Bokuto?” they point to the owl-haired boy who was nearly asleep leaning on the sofa, he had practiced today since six.

 

Kenma shook his head, if he knew his movies, “Bokuto would be around fourth.”

 

The group starts to discuss their grisly deaths and Kenma’s analysis when Lev taps on his shoulder.

 

“Who lives?”

 

Kenma just points with his chin, “reasonable people. Who are not too flashy.”

 

“As in?”  
  
“Yaku.” He says simply, Yaku pumps his fist in the air.

 

“Haha!”

 

“Hey, don’t get full of it.”

 

“What, and not me?” Kuroo points at himself, “I’m the most reasonable one here.”

 

Kenma just shakes his head and grins, “too much sex too.”

 

Oikawa laughs at him behind his hand, “so what are you Kenma?” He bounces his eyebrow up and down, “the love interest?”

 

Kenma stiffens up and looks back at his hands, “no. I’m third.”

 

“Oh come on,” Kuroo jostles him, “shy kids always live.”

 

“Yeah, they never leave their basements.”

 

Kenma just rubs his hands together to get some warmth into them, “unless,” he breathes slowly, “I’m the killer.” He slowly looks up at them, darting his amber eyes around the room. Someone gulps.

 

Shy sociopaths were often cast as the unsuspecting killers so it made sense to him. All of it did, so he didn’t understand why all of them were laughing, Yamamoto holding his sides and even Lev appeared in on the joke as he wiped his eyes.

 

Kenma blinks at them curiously, Bokuto is jostled awake and he takes time enough to eat more snacks.

 

“What? Kuroo dies, and you're the killer? I’m not sure I can actually believe any of your predictions now.”

 

Kenma scowls, he was just basing it off observations.

 

“God, he’s going to kill you.” One of them teases as Kenma looks at Kuroo.

 

“I mean, of course not,” Kenma clenches onto Kuroo’s arm tightly.

 

“Fuck, how are your hands still this cold?” Kenma is glad for the distraction, that as they turn back to the screen, ready to actually watch the movie, if not still discuss whose survival rate was the best.

 

Oikawa was universally agreed to die first, if not tied with Lev.

 

Kenma tried to ignore them, he glanced up at Kuroo as the film flickered by, the words are on the cusp of his mouth, 'I wouldn’t kill you. That’s silly.'

 

Nothing comes out. But somehow his brain stretches it into an anxiety-ridden hole, he would never really believe that, would he?

 

The final screams of Momo-chan come from the dark woods when Kuroo buries his nose in Kenma’s head again, “if you do kill me-”

“I wouldn’t.” Kenma interjects quickly.

“Buy some fucking gloves in my place.”

Kenma wriggles against him and jabs him in the side, they struggle plaintively in their corner until they are told to knock it off.

 

The film draws to a close and Kenma is yawning and dipping in and out of paying attention to the credits at that point.

 

“Wasn’t that great?” _Buzz_.

 

“No.”

 

“The lead was cute,” _buzz_ , “do you think I’d have a chance with her?”

 

“No, Yamamoto, you would not.” _Buzzzz_.

 

Kenma is almost willing himself to fall asleep to drown them all out, too many voices and too-harsh eyes like spotlights in a prison yard illuminating the room.

 

“Welp.” He feels his body being jostled, but he forces himself limp, “someone fell asleep.”

 

“Awe, he’s like a kid.” Yaku coos at him affectionately, that almost makes him break the facade.

 

“Or like one of those kittens who gets tired out.” Oikawa says and Lev pokes his foot, that definitely almost breaks it.

 

Kuroo lifts him away bridal style to his personal room, Kenma remains passively boneless.

 

“Okay, you can stay here for a bit, did you tell your mom?” He had seen through his faux-nap, maybe Kuroo wouldn’t die, he was too smart.

 

Kenma blinked his eyes open and then holds up his phone, indicating he texted her.

 

“Alright,” he lies him down in his futon on the floor, twisted up sheets and an unmade bed lay beneath him. “Stay here for however long, I’m going to-”

 

Kenma reaches out his hand instinctively, latching onto Kuroo’s sleeve, “‘t’s cold.”

 

Kuroo huffs, “you really are like a kid.”

 

Kenma curls up on himself, “turn the heat up.”

 

Kuroo sighs and kneels down on the floor with him, “how does one little body get so below freezing?”

 

Kenma scowls at him, he just shakes his head and shimmies into the tiny space next to him, “no elbows.” That was their rule since grade school. No elbows.

 

“You don’t have to stay.” Kenma relents as Kuroo settles in. He just snorts in response, Kenma settles against him anyway, coiling his body around the source of heat like a gnat drawn to the flame. Or a cat against a heater.

 

“You’re cold too.” He observes mildly, his fingers trail across Kuroo’s broad chest.

 

“Yeah, yeah, you want to help with that?” Kenma is drawn closer and he sighs into his sternum. Kuroo's arms wind around his waist and Kenma can feel the drum beat of a firm heart against his ear.

 

Thoughts of school, heavy voices and continuing volleyball alone intersect Kenma’s thoughts, but mostly it’s distracted by steady breathing and a constant stream of warmth that eases his fire-fly filled mind.

Kenma’s body was no good, cold, hot, and even his brain feared the little things, but it could still feel good once and awhile, pushed up against his friend's body and held close like a precious gem. It could feel good.


	2. A Cool Washcloth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rewrote this chapter, sorry to people who read the first version ;.;
> 
> It is now has 70% more characters and fluff

Summer

Kenma flops down on the small three-person couch, kicking his legs up in the air and staring up at the ceiling. The sound of an electric fan whirs in the corner and he can’t help but sigh heavily. The place is as empty as the grave.

Sweet drips down his forehead and back, his shirt is heavy with clinging moisture, and the heat clouds his thought process.

 

Kenma has a problem: summers were hot and winters were cold. And his body sucked.

 

Though this was unusually hot, even for him.

He holds his plastic bag closer to his chest. It had been half an hour and still no one had showed up, not even to their own apartment.

Having a key was nice, but his phone was almost dead and this was getting boring, ridiculous, but mostly boring.

 

He turns to try to face the slight breeze from the buzzing fan in the corner, it does little to cool his prickling skin.

 

Kenma is almost dozing off when he hears keys jingling in the front door, he sits up in one smooth motion, eyes coursing to the door to watch it carefully.

 

“Kuro…?” He murmurs, far too quietly for a greeting.

 

“Yahoo~” Not Kuroo. He groans and lies back down on the couch, it was too hot for this.

 

Oikawa minced through the door, hand up and face wide with a smile. He carried several bags in his hand, Kenma watches from afar.

 

Oikawa looked around until his eyes land on Kenma, “oh,” he flashes an unusually wide smile, “Ken-chan.” He puts his bags down in the kitchen.

 

Kenma nods at him and says something like 'afternoon.'

 

“It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” Oikawa gushes and walks to the window closest to Kenma and opens it.

 

Kenma wrinkles his nose, “it’s smell like burning tires out side.”

 

Oikawa gives a heart-felt sigh, “it’s the burn of youth.”

Kenma sinks deeper into the couch, he had been hearing about Oikawa’s moods, the  _unusually cheery_ ones.

He tries to avoid eye contact.

Oikawa hums a tune to himself and looks at Kenma. Kenma tilts his head at him curiously. "What is it?"

 

“It's wonderful out." Oikawa opens his arms wide as he turns to him. "Dance with me.”

 

Kenma shakes his head, Oikawa reaches for wrists and tugs him up anyway.

"You seem to be... in a good mood." He haltingly observes.

“I have been blessed.” He winks at him,

"I suppose it is a pretty nice out."

“It is l-o-ve.” He pronounces each syllable slowly. "I am blessed with being in love."

 

Kenma steadies his feet squarely on the ground trying to decide how normal people responded to that, was it ‘congratulations’? or ‘that’s nice’?

 

He was too busy wishing he could just be on his phone and not struggling through sociability to stop Oikawa from waltzing him across the wooden floor.

 

Kenma’s bag falls to the ground, Oikawa swings him around, he bonelessly has him dance in a circle.

 

Kenma looks at him blankly.

“It is a beautiful thing.”

“Sure.” Kenma confirms.

Kenma feels uncomfortably hot for the movement, wondering where Oikawa got the energy for all this.

 

Oikawa latches onto his hand though, lacing their fingers together obnoxiously before his face suddenly falls, “jeez Kenma, your hands are hot. Are you alright?”

 

Kenma looks up, “it’sjust hot.” He says in one slurred word.

 

"It is!" Oikawa shakes his head, “but you weren't here to just to hear about my love life were you?”

 

Kenma shakes his head, “got something for Kuro.”

 

“Of course! Did you want to leave it with me though?..." He feels his head suddenly, "You are really warm.” He seems to break out of his love-stupor to really look him.

 

Kenma flicks his eyes briefly up to meet Oikawa's, “No. I'll give it to him, I have something to tell him anyway.” He feels the weight of the letter in his back pocket.

 

Oikawa murmurs something about that being sweet and smiles gently.

 

He lets him spin him around one more time in a whirl of another outlandish 'love is beautiful!', footsteps pad at the entrance, Kenma looks to door quickly.

 

A familiar spiky black head emerges, “we’re home.” He says in a bored tone.

 

“Oh good! Kenma has something for you.”

 

“We are home!” Bokuto follows Kuroo in through the door excitably.

 

They both look over Oikawa with Kenma’s, hand in hand as they stand close together.

 

“What are you two doing?”

 

“Dancing!”

 

“Ignore him,” Bokuto says in a mock-whisper, “he’s still in ‘love'.”

Kenma blinks between them as he processes Oikawa's love-struck state being a _thing_ for the apartment.

 

He does however release his hand and Kenma picks up his package to trot it over to Kuroo.

 

“Hey.” He bows his head as he greets him. He presents the plastic bag.

 

“You got my noodles!” He sings and excitedly takes out the package, “I haven’t had these since I moved in here.”

 

Kenma gives a small smile, they were from the corner shop they used to eat at after practice.

 

“You are the best,” it was an affectionate sentiment, quiet, he goes to ruffle Kenma's hair which Kenma tries to dodge. “Whoa.”

Kuroo manages to upset the front half of his hair, “you are hot.”

“That’s what I was saying!”

“It’s over 38 degrees out.” Kenma says and swats Kuroo’s hand away.

 

“Lemme feel,” Bokuto rushes up and sticks his large hand over Kenma’s neck, tongue out, “whoa!” His eyes go wide.

 

“Maybe if you guys had real AC…” He mumbles as he gestures at the corner fan, which Did Not count.

Kuroo, Oikawa and Bokuto exchange glances, Kenma did not like that look, they were an idiot machine that combined into one large idiot factory as far as he was concerned.

 

“Thermostat!” Bokuto suddenly expresses.

 

“I think you mean thermometer.”

 

“Yeah! That.” Bokuto scurries off, Kenma almost groans out loud.

 

“Why don’t you go sit on the couch Kenma,” Kuroo guides Kenma across the room, wide hands covering his shoulders as they walk. It was like he was handling glass, Kenma scowls.

 

“I should go... but I have something to, uh.” Kuroo sits him down, he stumbles back onto the arm of the couch.

 

“One moment Kenma.” He gestures for Bokuto and they have him put a long white stick under his tongue.

 

Oikawa, Kuroo and Bokuto stand around him like he’s a modern art piece they are contemplating.

 

Kenma tries to explain to them nothing was wrong-- he was always too hot in summer, but every time he opens his mouth they squawk at him to close it.

 

It takes several long minutes.

 

Finally, Kenma spits it out and Kuroo grasps it from him and eyes it. He waits patiently for their verdict.

 

“Oh, fuck,” Kuroo's eyes go wide.

 

Kenma’s body takes that precise moment to sneeze loudly. Kuroo is very pale and motionless.

 

“He’s going to die!”  Bokuto throws his hands up in the air.

 

“Do we put his feet up?” Oikawa looks around like he wants to dash out the room.

 

“Get him to the window! He needs air.” Bokuto picks him up and manhandles him to the window, shoving his face into the breeze.

 

“Don’t throw him out the window!” Kuroo snapped out of his stupor.

 

“He is not dying in our house.” Oikawa explicates.

“I’m not a piece of luggage.” He tries to pull away from Bokuto, Kuroo tries to pick him up in the process, Oikawa edges towards the door.

 

“I’ll go call 119.” Kuroo says very seriously.

 

“You are over reacting!” Kenma sneezes again.

 

“Keep him away,” Oikawa jumps, “I am not getting sick! Everyone get away from him.”

 

“Kenma, we’re going to get you help.” Kuroo taps on his phone.

 

“ _Stop calling the police_.”

 

"This is how zombie movies start."

A rustle comes from the front door, Kenma is too entangled in Kuroo and Bokuto to look over.

 

“What are you idiots doing?” Finally. A voice of reason interrupts them.

 

“Yaku!” Kenma maneuvers to face him, eyes wide as he perched by the window, “they are going to kill me.”

 

“His illness is going to kill us all.” Oikawa informs them all gravely.

 

“Oh my God." Yaku holds the bridge of his nose as he stands in the doorway.

 

Yaku kicks them all into shape, sometimes literally, and stops Kuroo from calling an ambulance, (‘it’s just a fever!’).

 

They do end up sitting Kenma down on the couch, in several layers of blankets and talking about what to do with him.

 

“I could carry him home.” Kuroo says thoughtfully.

 

“It’s twenty minutes.” Yaku had firmly taken up his role of responsible-friend-mom and was eyeing them all to see if they would do any other absurd thing. Bokuto is in the kitchen making something.

 

“I _could_ carry him.” Kuroo reiterates solemnly.

 

“Just call his parents.” Oikawa inputs as he stands as far away as he possible.

 

“His parents don’t get home until late.” Kuroo asserts knowledgeably.

 

“I could take the bus.” Kenma inputs as he stares into the tea they handed him. He was feeling uncomfortably dizzy at that moment.

 

“You are not going anywhere.” Yaku wags a finger at him.

 

“He can’t stay here.” Oikawa whispers stiffly, flashing a smile at Kenma, “no offense Ken-chan, but I have no intention of getting sick.”

 

Kenma raises his eyebrows.

 

“We are not kicking him out.” Kuroo says firmly, placing a hand on Kenma’s shoulder.

 

“Don’t touch him! I _live_ with you, you'll just spread it.” Oikawa reels.

 

“I will lick him for all I care.”

 

“Don’t you dare.”

 

"Watch me."

 

"I'll kick you out."

 

“Don’t lick me,” Kenma says miserably.

 

“Don’t lick him.” Yaku confirms with a put upon sigh.

 

“I’ll do it! He’s my childhood friend, I'll lick every inch." Kenma looks down at his feet. 

 

“That doesn’t mean you can lick me…”

 

The great whether-or-not-to-lick-Kenma debate rages, Kenma gets a headache. Kuroo is practically holding him up in the air when Bokuto comes over back into the fracas.

 

“Hey, hey, hey!” He announces, “I made soup.”

 

“See? Now he’ll be good enough." Oikawa smiles, "To leave.”

 

“Oikawa you have no heart.”

 

“I have a brain...and a boyfriend.”

 

Kuroo buries his nose in Kenma's hair, “ _Please_ get him sick, for me,” he whispers into Kenma’s ear and Kenma flashes him a smile, he squeezes his arm.

 

They ply him with soup. He sneezes exactly seven times while eating and worries the apartment into a frenzy.

 

He is generally impressed with Bokuto’s cooking skills though, the soup was thick and soothed his throat.

 

He murmurs a compliment at him, Bokuto flashes him a thumbs up (‘I learned from my gran!’)

 

It gets late into the evening at that point, Kenma wondered about his parents.

“No, we can’t let him walk home, I told you, he is too sick.”

 

“Just accept that he is going to stay here.” They convince Oikawa who was now wearing surgical gloves and a mask. He gives in.

 

They finish up the argument, Kenma is fading at that point. His eyes are blurry and he really can feel his body burning up like a meteor through the atmosphere.

 

He grasps at the tail end of Kuroo’s shirt. “Kuroo.” He feels small.

 

He turns to him instantly, “yeah…?”

 

He weakly leans his head on his hip, “I don't feel well.”

 

Kuroo nods and places his large hand over his cheek, “I know.”

 

“I’d be worried if he was feeling anything else.” Yaku comments off to the side.

 

Kenma was getting scared, the room was too bright and his limbs felt like jelly. “This isn’t normal.”

 

“We need to turn the fan up.” Oikawa sighs as he starts to be helpful.

 

“We should just put him to sleep.”

 

Kenma nods, he buries his face in Kuroo’s shirt, “I really don’t feel well.” It was catching up to him all at once.

 

Kuroo rubs his back and Kenma clings to him a little too forcefully, his world spun as everything turned to prickling burn under his skin.

 

They place him back on the couch.

 

“He’s shivering,” one of them says with concern.

 

“We need to break the fever...more blankets…water...” Their words weave in and out of Kenma’s consciousness.

 

He is burning up, sweating heavily into several blankets they layer over him, he struggles against the woolen mess but is forced to succumb to their weight.

 

He falls into a restless sleep.

 

////

 

Kenma’s mind plays the vision of Kuroo licking the side of his face, cat-rough tongue covering his cheek and eyes dark and hooded. It wasn’t as comical and ridiculous like the first time.

Kenma felt even more warmth pooling in his gut. The sickness makes him needy and weak.

 

He tries to turn over but runs into something firm and soft, the sound of tapping catches his attention. He blinks open his eyes.

 

The fan whirs in the corner, the click-clack of buttons plays above his head.

 

He tries to look around, it’s dark all except the TV flashing in front of the couch, his head is against someone’s thighs.

Kuroo was playing some shooting game on mute as Kenma’s head rested on his lap.

 

He feels a cool cloth laying on his forehead. He clears his throat as he touches it.

 

Kuroo looks down at him, “you’re awake.” He announces weakly, visible relief in his amber eyes.

 

Kenma nods, “I feel...cooler.” It was true, everything was less dim around the edges and more sharp, though he was filled with a distinct ache in every muscle.

 

“Better?”

 

Kenma nods, but then continues to frown, “I _hate_ summer.”

 

Kuroo chuckles, “you sound like yourself. Thank God.”

 

He tries to sit up but the unwieldy pile of blankets and Kuroo’s hand keeps him down. “Not so fast.” Kenma is forced to lie back down, maybe for the best.

 

He watches Kuroo take his mech suit and save the planet of Kez or something, he wasn’t really following the plot.

 

“You have terrible taste in video games.” Kenma mumbles as he watches the main character face the beautiful priestess who gives him a reward kiss.

 

Kuroo laughs, the vibrations coursing all the way through Kenma's spine, “that actually hurts coming from you.”

 

Kenma smiles, “I have at least ten other games I could suggest.”

 

“Oh no, I’ll stick to my crappy taste in sci-fi games any day. You can’t take that from me.”

 

Kenma bites his lip, he felt a light inside, floating, “I have something to tell you.”

 

“Oh yeah.” Kuroo says with a hard edge, he doesn’t look down at him. His eyes growing distant, “And I already have my answer.”

 

Kenma froze at that.

 

“I wasn’t going to say anything before when you were burning up, but…” he pauses and glances down at Kenma, eyes shining in the dark as his fingers stop moving, “you can’t Kenma.”

 

Kenma goes rigid at that, “how…?”

 

“You’re mom,”

 

Kenma makes an annoyed noise, “stop having tea with my parents.” He pouts.

 

Kuroo has the ghost of a smile revisit his face, “No.”

 

Kenma rolls his eyes, Kuroo knew Kenma’s folks almost as well as he did. Which made sense, considering.

 

Kenma tries to read Kuroo, why wasn’t he happy?

 

“I got into Nekoma University.” He announces, expecting at least _something_.

 

Kuroo frowns, “You also got into Tokyo university.” He says firmly, he goes back to tip-tapping on the controller as Kenma’s head lulls on his knee. “You gotta go. Don't come here.” His voice is strained.

 

“I can’t.” Kenma states simply. He starts to struggle out of the blanket cocoon.

 

“You gotta.” Kuroo repeats strongly, still not looking at him as his voice is thin and raw. “It’s the best school maybe in the country kid.”

 

“‘m not a kid.” He mumbles and tries to reach Kuroo’s neck. He struggles to sit up and the cool wash cloth falls off his forehead. He catches it and puts on the table.

 

“We should talk about this when you aren’t deliriously sick.”

 

“Wouldn’t change anything.” Kenma stares at Kuroo, eyes heavy and body fever-hot in a mix of heat and libido.

 

“I can’t let you.” He sounds small, like he’s talking himself into something.

 

Kenma stares at his mouth, wide and speaking fast words he doesn't quiet catch.

 

He wraps his thin arms around his neck, the ones not meant for volleyball but led to the court anyway. Didn't he know he'd follow him? His presses his forehead against his collarbone.

“Too late.”

Kuroo laughs. “Come on.”

 

“Wouldn’t you miss me?” Kenma couldn’t help it, the words are sloppy and slip out.

 

Kuroo freezes for a moment, his character dies on screen. His fingers tentatively reach up and he cradle the back of Kenma’s head. Kuroo's eyes meet his and then close, he presses his lips to the top of Kenma’s head.

That seemed to be the answer.

 

“I’ll help you with homework.” Kenma assures him.

 

Kuroo smiles, “You want to live in Oikawa’s room? His love sickness is ruining our drapes.”

 

Kenma settles deeper into Kuroo’s lap as he drags blankets over them.

 _I want to live in your room_ , but Kenma doesn’t say that.

 

“Stop pressing A and jump already.” He instructs as they watch the screen, “and we’ll talk.” He says softly.

 

He is shaking his head, “I can’t believe you aren’t going to Tokyo U.”

 

“I can’t believe how bad at this you are.”

 

Kuroo sighs, “show me how it’s done.”

 

Kenma takes the controler and Kuroo holds him around the waist.

 

“I would miss you.”

Kenma smiles to himself.

 

**A Week Later**

“Where are the tissues?” Yaku grumbles.

 

“Bokuto is hoarding them again.” Oikawa stares daggers at the owl-boy.

 

“Well maybe you should have shared your hot pack.”

 

Kenma rolled his eyes, “do you want another washcloth?” He asks Kuroo softly.

 

“Yes please.” He replies with a nasally tone, nose completely stuffed up.

 

“Why does Kuroo get someone to wait on him?” One of them complains.

 

Kenma turns to them blandly, “you tried to throw me out a window.”

 

“You would have been fine!”

 

“I stopped them from calling the police.” Yaku whimpers and then sneezes.

 

Kenma shakes his head and makes them all soup, “It is my fault.” He relents as he steals the tissues back from Bokuto and redistributes them. "So I'll help you for now."

  
"You would have been fine." Bokuto insists again.

"Iwai-chan isn't going to kiss me now." Oikawa sullenly expresses.

"Good." Yaku gives a flat answer.

Kenma snorts and covers his mouth.

 

The summer is one of the hottest ones on record, Kenma gets through it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I looked up what the heck Celsius is for this. (38 C=100 F), also 119 is 911 for Japan (ambulance or fire department)
> 
> tell me what you think of the story! (I worry about the second chapter)
> 
> insomniac-arrest.tumblr.com (general)
> 
> my new haikyuu blog: villager-bae.tumblr.com :D


	3. A Tiled Dance Floor

Sociability 

Kenma closes his eyes, _bumbumbuh_ , he tries to concentrate on the beat and only the beat, _bumbumbuh,_ the beat was easy, it was pure. He takes deep breaths.

 

It was hard being the type of person who was nervous in crowds.

 

It terrified Kenma others might think things about him there, or even worse, say things to each other about him. Not even bad things, just the secret thoughts and words that would define him and he couldn’t change. Kenma wasn’t good with people, and yet everything about that bothered him.

 

_Some bodies are more nervous than others._

 

That’s what his counselor told him in the third grade.

 

_Bumbumbuh, bumbuh_

 

He couldn’t tell if he was holding his drink right, if greeted the bouncer correctly, or looked perfectly disinterested. That was the goal.

He didn’t like the thought of standing out here of all places.

 

The lights blare in lazy to sporadic circles, _bumbumbuh_ , the air was thick with rapid breathing and bodies slick with sweat and hormones rocking against each other. People danced like they didn’t care and danced like they would have sex right there on the floor.

Hands and bodies, whispers and eyes. _Bumbuhbuh,_

 

They told him it was a basement party, but Kenma figured it was more like a club.

 

Kenma’s phone finally vibrates.

 

‘we’re on the floor. 2 the left’

 

Great. He feels sick to his stomach, but picks his way through the edge of the crowd, trying not to make eye contact with any hazy-faced strangers.

 

 _Some bodies are made more nervous than others._ That was for sure.

He doesn’t lose it though, he’s there for something important, he just takes deep breathes and searches out his friends, the dimness and the confusion doesn’t help the matter.

“Kenma!”

“Ken-chan~”

Two voices call out his name (or something like his name) in the dank of the basement and blinding glare of the strobe lights.

 

He stumbles in that direction until he runs into Oikawa and Yaku with a Bokuto he figures close by.

 

He tries to approach them as calmly as possible with a baseline of annoyance at his core, they should know this was not his scene.

 

Yaku gives an apologetic wave, but Oikawa just smiles.

 

“You made it!”

 

Kenma nods and starts in softly, “where is Kuro?”

 

“Ah, right to business.”

 

“I told these idiots we didn’t need to drag you out of bed at this hour,” Yaku murmurs.

 

“But it’s important.” Oikawa bemoans.

 

“What’s important?”

 

“Kenma!” Kenma feels a slap on his back. There was Bokuto. “Here to save Kuroo, about time.”

 

Kenma examines his face, and then turns back to Oikawa, “go on.” They had just called it an ‘emergency’ in the texts.

 

He wraps a long arm around Kenma’s neck and guides him over, “follow me.”

 

Kenma’s heart picks up, he steels himself for what ever it could be, it was time to rally-- he was actually needed and it wasn’t even for homework or setting some goddamn ball.

 

“Look at that,” Bokuto points to their right. Kuroo was by the stage, holding the head of a very pretty blonde in his hands. Her pink eye shadow was heavy and smile considerably ‘bubbly.’ She seemed like his type.

 

“What is it?” Kenma asks in a flat tone.

“It is bad Ken-chan, very bad.” Oikawa is shaking his head.

Kenma looks at him, waiting for him to elaborate.

 

“That is Ayako,” He points an accusatory finger at the girl, Kenma continues his vacant stare, “she just broke up with her boyfriend and--”

 

“And,” Bokuto interrupts, “she does this thing where she breaks up with her boyfriend, and then teases other boys and then break their hearts when she goes back to her real boyfriend.” Bokuto and the rest look scandalized.

Someone jostles Kenma from behind and he moves bonelessly to the side, “what do you want me to do about it?” A bitter taste rests underneath his tongue.

“Stop it!”

“He’s not listening to us,” Yaku explains.

“You are the caveliary.”

Kenma sighs heavily, “I’m not his babysitter...She doesn’t look bad.”

“Ah,” Oikawa leans close to him, “but do you really want to see Kuroo get hurt?”

 

Kenma tenses his shoulders, so it was going to be like that. He takes a deep breath.

 

“Fine. But we are leaving right after this.” They shake their heads enthusiastically.

 

“Fight Ken-chan!”

 

“Good luck.”

 

They wave him off, he gives a lazy hand wave back. He shuffles over shyly, he wasn’t good at intruding, he just trains his eyes on Kuroo’s pine-needles thick hair and walks.

 

 _Bumbuhbuh_ ,

 

He reaches forward and tentatively taps Kuroo on the shoulder. Kuroo doesn’t react, eyes intent on Ayako like a flashlight on a dim corner.

 

“Kuro.” He taps his shoulder more forcefully. _Bumbuhhub_ , a headache is forming in his frontal lobe.

 

Kuroo finally turns around slowly, reluctantly.

 

“One moment,” he croons to the girl. However, his eyes go wide like dark moons when he spots Kenma.

“Kenma?”

“Hey.” He says gently.

“ _Kenma_??” He says in disbelief, “are you okay? Is something wrong?” Of course Kenma would only go to the club if something was wrong. Which was pretty true.

 

Kenma shakes his heads, flinching as the song switches to something that practically tore the place apart as people jumped up and down.

He tries to figure how to phrase the next part that wasn’t _get away from this girl because of reasons_.

 

He takes too long. Kuroo grabs his face and raises it softly to look him in the face, Kenma’s eyes search his, “is it classes? Your mom?”

Kenma gives the hint of a smile, “no.” He bites his lip, “I, hem, they think we should leave.” He finally says as practically as possible.

“But what are you doing here?” He seems lost.  
  
Kenma opens his mouth, but it just kind of hangs open that way.

 

”Tetsurou,” Kenma flinches at Kuroo’s first name, it was jarring out of her bow shaped lips, “who is this? A brother?”

She wraps an arm around him to get his attention, hanging off his neck like an ornament.

 

She has a line of green around her ring finger, the faint imprint of what must have been a promise ring she took off. Her mascara is thick and somewhat sloppy, like she had to keep reapplying it throughout the day.

He feels a pang of sympathy for her.

 

Not enough to let Kuroo run off with her, but pity was somewhere mixed in his periphery.

 

“I am his friend.” Kenma finds himself saying, unprompted.

 

She looks him up and down, “look at his pudding hair, cute.” She coos as she goes to touch his roots, he dodges adeptly.

 

“I should go Ayo.” Kuroo suddenly says.

 

Ayako blinks at him, her eyes wide, a pout forming on her full lips, “why? Weren’t we having fun?”

 

He gestures at Kenma weakly. She glances at him again, he looks everywhere but at her face, wanting to sink back into the paneled floor. She was looking him over, thinking unknown thoughts.

 

 _Bumbumbuh_ , _some bodies are made more nervous than others_.

 

“He is cute Tetsurou.”

Kuroo raises his eyebrows, “Uh, baby, not like that.”

“But I am cute too, yeah? Stay here.” Kenma can see a desperation in her tone. Kenma is glad Kuroo is handling that, he would never know what to do.

 

Kenma hears a distant _‘fight-o_ ’ from Bokuto as Ayako touches Kuroo’s chest and leans into him.

 

“Really, Ayo, let’s do it- this, tomorrow.” A flush was on Kuroo’s neck, Kenma wants to rub it off like chalk from blackboard. He stands perfectly still.

 

Ayako, “you really don’t like me?” Her voice is watery, Kenma wants to turn around and walk into the void.

 

He is backing up, in over his head as her lip wobbles, when Kuroo leans in to whisper something in her ear. Quiet and incomprehensible, Kenma watches his lips move carefully. There was something secret and voyeuristic about it. Kenma looks away.

 

Ayako darts her eyes at Kenma again, he stuffs his hands deeper into his pockets and attempts to look small.

 

She nods, nods and smiles her watery smile between heavy make up and hands like doves resting at her side.

 

“I understand.” She says.

 

Kenma doesn’t know what to make of it. Did Kuroo promise her something? He contemplates if it was sexual or not, if he failed at keeping them apart and was just delaying the inevitable.

Kuroo grabs his shoulder and leads him slowly away, burying his nose into his Kenma’s hair like he did, “so what is wrong?”

 

A twinge of guilt pulls at his consciousness, “nothing. Really.”

 

Kuroo eyes him and the grip on the back of his neck becomes firm.

 

Kenma nods, “ask them.” He juts his chin at their friends.

Bokuto was giving him a big thumbs up.

 

“We knew you could do it.”

 

Oikawa gleams a smile, “we are really too considerate.”

 

Kuroo blinks slowly, “did you just,” his eyebrows knit together like an angry V-line as he put the whole scene together in his head.

 

“We helped.”

 

“Did you just drag Kenma here to get me away from Ayo?” He nearly growls.

 

“Now you won’t mope around the apartment for three days!” Bokuto crows from the side, pumping his fist in the air.

 

Kuroo hits his forehead with his palm, “I hate you all.”

 

Yaku pats his back, “it’s for the best. Honestly, ask Kenji, he lives on our floor, she messed with him.”

 

Kuroo just shakes his head, “I’m going back.”

 

 _Bumbuh,buh,_ Kenma grabs Kuroo’s wrist in one smooth motion as Kuroo turns to leave. _She’ll break your heart_ , that’s what they said.

 

That draws their attention to him, his skin prickles.

 

“Counterpoint,” Oikawa puts a finger in the air, “who will walk Kenma home?”

 

He should really assert that he can walk himself home, but he doesn’t.

 

“We should go.” Kenma gets out.

 

Kuroo looks at the ceiling.

 

“Agreed!” Bokuto spouts, wrinkling his nose, “this place is getting stuffy.”

 

Another party enters the fray, Akaashi approaching with his arms full.

 

“Hey! Just in time. We’re leaving.” Bokuto announces to the other man.

 

His eyebrows raise, “but..” He looks around between them, “I literally just got drinks.”

 

He holds bottle up and Kuroo grabs one immediately followed by Yaku (who could out drink them all under the table).

 

Kenma is drawn to the brown bottles as well, maybe it would settle the bile rising in his throat. His purpose was done, this place was loud and teaming with movement.

 

He watches them drink, Akaashi passes one to him, Kuroo looks on with disapproval. Kenma flashes his eyes at him to remind him ‘I’m not a kid.’

 

He waits in a daze for them to finish.

 

“I really think…” _Bumbum_ ,

 

“The music here sucks…”

 

“Why don’t you think...Iawazumi..” _Bumbuhbuh_ ,

 

His body was certainly feeling more nervous than others right then.

 

“Want to head out?” Kuroo dotes on him, he feels like he should resist.

 

He nods in relief nonetheless.

 

“I’m going to walk Kenma home!” He calls to the others, “because you assholes pulled this weird ass shit.”  
  
“You’ll thank us later.”

“No I won’t!” Kenma guides Kuroo out of the fray before he can continue grumbling at them.

 

Kenma leads them out into the neutral fall air, not too hot or cold yet. Kenma let’s go of Kuroo’s sleeve as they make it to the empty streets.

 

“God, I have chem test Monday.” Kuroo suddenly seems to remember and groans, hands ranking through his hair.

 

Kenma snorts, something good might come of this then-- besides Kenma being uncomfortable and Kuroo not getting laid.

 

“You have to rest of the night.” He comments absently.

 

“You really went along with those idiots?” Kuroo finally asks with some forlorn in his voice.

 

“They called it an emergency and told me you were about to make the worst decision of your life.”

 

Kuroo rolls his eyes, “of course they did.”

They take a moment to complain about their friends and their ‘mother knows best’ approach and the overall plans they hatched. A silence falls when Ayako is brought up again though.

Kenma looks down at his feet, “did you like her?” Should he apologize?

 

Kuroo scratches his chin and looks around, “I didn’t dislike her. She was nice and really lonely I think.”

Kenma guessed he had a type then.

“And?”

“And we were totally going to bang.” He winks at him, a little tipsily Kenma noted.

 

“My bad.” The wind blew his hair faintly into his face and he brings his hand up to settle it.

 

“Nah.” Kuroo patted him on the back, “chem test, remember.”

 

Kenma smiles up at him, “want me to get her back for you? She thought I was cute apparently.” He jokes to lift Kuroo's mood.

 

Kuroo grinned at him widely, “I’m not sure I could handle you dating. I’d have to vet her.” Kenma went stiff at that, Kuroo’s hand on the small of his back. “And I’m sure if you heard, but she apparently breaks hearts.”

 

Kenma frowns, “You should watch out for that,” he glances up with a small ironic smile, “I’m not sure if I could handle you _not_ dating.” He mirrors his words back to him.

 

“I would have been fine!” He waves absently into the air. “My heart is made of steel.”

 

Kenma rolls his eyes dismissively, “you’re heart is made of tissue paper and fluff.” He comments matter of factly, then sniffs, “Someone has to watch out for it.”

 

Kuroo leans down ecstatically, “is that you?”

 

Kenma just looks up and the corners of his mouth tug up, he catches a tail end of Kuroo flushing. Maybe it was the cold.

 

They reach Kenma’s sprawling dorm complex in good time and Kuroo is mumbling formula’s to himself under his breath, Kenma is gently correcting them as he goes.

 

They get into the elevator and hit the '9th floor' button.

 

“I wish I lived with the rest of you.” He thinks out loud himself as the elevator jerks to life like an angry stallion.

 

“This has more of The College Experience.” Kuroo says lightly, hands in his pockets.

“Because that is what I want.” Kenma comments dryly.  
  
“You can meet cute people here.”

 

Kenma glances at him, “I thought you were against me dating. And I know enough people already.”

 

“I don’t want you dating the _wrong_ people.”

 

“You and my mom spend too much time together.” Kuroo just grins and ruffles Kenma’s hair. “She’ll want you to adopt me or date me soon.”

The words are out of his mouth before he can filter them out, he’s guessing it might have to do with the one drink he took down, or maybe just his own uncoiling nerves.

 

Kuroo seems unfazed, though he is looking at the wall, “I could do that.”

 

They stand in a still silence, like a clock that stopped ticking, the elevator dings.

“Here I am.”

“If you get any more texts from those guys please ignore them.” Kuroo says quickly.

“But what if you are making stupid decisions next time?”

 

“Like actually making it with that girl?”

 

He walks towards the opening elevator doors, “like heartbreak.” He teases but it comes out too soft, they stand motionless.

 

“Lemme walk you to your door Kenma.”

 

“Sure.” They make to his hall with beige carpet and properly stained ceilings.

 

Kuroo puts his hands on the small of his back again and they make it to the door of Kenma’s room, he gets out his key card.

 

“Thanks for watching out for me.” He says absently as he opens it up.

 

Kenma shrugs, “sorry for listening to them I guess.”

 

He puts his chin on Kenma’s head, “You just owe me.”

 

Kenma smiles, “I’ll tell Ayako hi for you if I see her again then.”

 

“No!” He grabs his sides, “not with the whole ‘I’ll date her thing.”

 

“You were the one who said I couldn’t be a virgin forever last week." He recalls bitterly.

 

“You won’t be. Not with that face.”

 

“But you’ll vet them first.” He says raising an eyebrow.

 

“What do you think I’m doing now? Sleeping around vets all of them.”

 

Kenma just shakes his head, “goodnight Kuroo.”

 

“See you tomorrow. I’ll think of that favor you can do me.”

 

“Good night.” He closes the door on him and he feels more calm then he should after the stomping feet and odd conversations.


	4. A Glob of Hair Gel

Bedhead

Of course they had a volleyball game on the day of Kenma’s Data Structures midterm, but of course he was going to go any way. That’s how the relationship worked.

And Kuroo would get him mochi or something afterwards.

He had been woken up to Kuroo's frantic pacing outside his room that morning, Kenma had scrambled out of bed to see what is wrong, sliding out into his dorm hallway quickly.

He blinked slowly at Kuroo who was threading his finger through his own hair and walking back and forth, “what’s up?” Kenma asks shortly.

Kuroo pauses his pacing to turn on Kenma, “my hair.”

Kenma examines him with his eyebrows raised, “you have hair. Correct.”

Kuroo ruffles his hair and then shoves it in Kenma’s face, “it’s not going down.”

Kenma had to admit it did look worse than usual, standing on end and going in so many different directions it could have been a porcupine.

Kenma shakes his head, “it will be fine.” Kenma quirks a smile, “maybe it will intimidate the other team.” Kenma ruffles Kuroo’s head himself, it felt like stiff pine needles.

Kuroo gives a miserable sigh.

“People are going to see me...actual people and guess what they are going to talk about?”

“You’re amazing spike?”

“The asshole with the road kill on his head.”

Kenma breaths a small sigh and then rubs the sleep out of his eyes. “I’ll be right back.”

He side steps back into his own room and taps on his room mates shoulder as he dozes.  He stirs and mumbles something at him.

“Can I borrow your extra strength hair gel?” Kenma whispers hesitantly, asking for things not his usual fair.

Luckily his roommate was out of it, like a ghost in a disco bar. He mumbles something like yes and Kenma snatches the grey thick bottle from off the shelf.

He darts back into the hallway, making sure to turn the lights off as he leaves.

“Come on.” He gestures for Kuroo, “we’ll go to the mirror this way.”

Kuroo hunches over, “I already tried hair gel.”

Kenma shakes the grey bottle into front of him, “not this stuff.”

They pad along into the shared bathroom of the hallway, luckily it was too early in the morning on a saturday for anyone to be awake.

The large space was eerily quiet, and Kenma sits Kuroo down on a stool.

“I suppose my room mate would be called a ‘metrosexual’,” Kenma mumbles, “he knows his hair products.”

“What, is it foreign?”

“Imported in bulk.”

Kuroo snorts, “sounds like a nice guy.”

Kenma shrugs as he opens the bottle, “I wouldn’t know… getting to know people is not my specialty.”

“Should I invite him out with us?” He asks wryly.

Kenma shudders, “ _no._ ” He pauses, “Now hold still.”

He rubs the sticky gel together in between his hands before slicking it all up and down the sides of the mane of hair.

“Have you considered shaving it all off?” He asks as he fights with the springy black locks.

Kenma sees Kuroo flash a grin in the mirror, “I’m afraid I would have a weird shaped head.”

Kenma nods sagely, “you’d look like a hairless cat.”

“Ugh,” Kuroo groans at the thought of it it seems.

“Not that that’s bad... All cats are cute.” Kenma says factually, a true statement if he ever made one.

To Kenma’s chagrin Kuroo shakes his head, “that’s so you. And no I’m not shaving my whole head...Maybe half.”

Kenma nods, “maybe half.”

Kuroo leans back on Kenma's chest as he massages the hair into the proper place and tries for the life of him to make it stay.

Ten minutes in and they have something presentable, if not a little too flat.

“It really was a mess though,” Kenma says as he washes his hands in the sink.

Kuroo puts his hands in the air, “my body me betrays me.”

Kenma rolls his eyes, “yeah. Right.”

Kuroo nods at his reflection and gives him a thumbs up. “Okay. This will do.”

“Now you can go to the volleyball match.” Kenma says dryly as he caps his hair gel and tucks a loose hair behind his ear.

“You’ll be there right?”

“After my midterm, yeah, I’ll try to finish quick.” He assures.

Kuroo ruffles his hair, “you better.”

Kenma heaves a sigh, “better win then.”

“We will! Our lucky past-setter will be there.”

Kenma smiles a small smile and they part ways, Kenma yawning and Kuroo still covering his head like a scared bandit.

Kenma makes it too his room and starts to gather his books and prep material, he was used to having class on saturdays, but his life was feeling like a series of midterms and study sessions. Less fun than you would think.

He leaves his slumbering room mater, hoping he doesn’t mind the mass amounts of hair gel missing from the bottle and makes his way to the library.

He studies until his eyes are blurry and his sense of time moot, walks his way like a zombie to the classroom. The midterm goes along in a classical exhausting as always (though probably successful) and that’s how he shows up at the volley match in the afternoon: yawning and rubbing his nose.

They better not go into overtime.

The match was the determining game to go to regionals and both sides looked like cats in a low puddle of water: treading lightly and highly uncomfortable.

Kenma watches all their faces and his mind quickly evaluates who would be the hardest fights and who would get frazzled easily. He almost missing being on the court. Almost.

Kuroo notices him and waves, a relaxed smile on his face, Kenma’s spirits pick up and he waves lazily back. At least Kuroo was good at keeping his cool.

Oikawa and Yuku wave at him too, Kenma gives them a nod.

The match starts out as any other: two skilled teams going head to head in a battle of iron will. Which, consequently was the nickname of the other team: Iron Will.

A little over the top in Kenma’s opinion, but he watches with interest. It was a tough match, the ball goes back and forth and there are several penalties, and missed balls.

Major missed balls, one of the blockers, number 3, was talented and tall, no one was getting past him. Of course, he was weak on his left side.

Kenma sees it again and again, he leans to the right and leaves a small opening under his armpit. He figured their team would figure it out.

Their school starts to get discouraged anyway, Kenma watches the weariness creep it’s way into Kuroo’s face along with the rest of the team.

At a time out 23-25 ‘Iron Will’ was ahead and Kenma is angrily gesturing at Kuroo, they had to see to see, they had to, why weren’t they seeing it?

He finally gets Kuroo’s attention and mouths ‘left side.’

Kuroo makes a face at him in confusion, LEFT SIDE Kenma mouths again and holds up the number 3.

Number three, the left side. Kuroo’s eyes light up and he nods his head in comprehension.

The left side, number three.

Kenma watches carefully, Oikawa makes a bullet like serve and scores a point, the tension mounts with each new point, they go into over time (Kenma curses). Kuroo ends up in front of tall number three.

Kenma leans forward, the ball traverses back and forth rapidly, Yaku making at lest two saves one right after the other.

Kuroo indicates to Oikawa to send it to him, Oikawa looks at him, eyes wide with concern, number 3 was right there but Oikawa gives in at the last moment, setting it too Kuroo.

He leaps up in the air and drives it to the ground right over number threes hands. One his left side.

Kenma relaxes, letting out the breath he didn’t know he was holding, that was match point, they were going to regionals.

The crowd cheers around him and Kenma starts to wander onto the court, he wasn’t 100% sure that was allowed yet, but he figured the quicker he got down there, the quicker he could congratulate them and leave.

He wasn’t up for the noise and rumbling of the crowd after hours of tense concentration.

Kenma jogs over to the celebrating team, he grins at them, “good job.” They pat him on the back and he high fives _someone_.

“Kenmaaa,” Kenma turns around lazily, only to find himself being lifted into the air.

“I’m not a do--mmm,” later he would find out he was trying to kiss him on the cheek and had missed.

But for that very moment Kuroo was kissing him on the mouth.

It was very excited and very forceful, like a wet sponge of warmth spreading from his mouth to his fingertips. It wasn’t like any kiss he had before, mostly since it was his first legitimate kiss.

Warm and soggy and entirely enthusiastic, his entire body goes stiff.

Kuroo holds him close to his body for a moment and then moves him away from his body, he is panting and shaking slightly, probably high on adrenaline.

He must sense that was a little out of place as he puts Kenma down immediately.

Kenma stands there in a daze, he feels his face, it’s hot and as red as a fire hydrant. He looks around, people were staring at them. He tries to come back to his senses,  _people were staring at them._

Kenma turns around disjointedly, “good job. Gotta go.” He’s not sure if anyone heard him, but he doesn’t care.

He marches out the door and Kenma hears one of Kuroo’s teammates say, “good job, you fucked that one up, dude.”

Kenma’s brain is a swarm of gnats and he practically runs back to his dorm and proceeds to hide under the covers.

It’s only late afternoon but he forces his head to be quiet and maybe get to sleep.

For once he gets his wish and his body lets him fall into a terrible worry-induced nap.

What was that? What was Kuroo?

////

He wakes back up to the sound of knocking on his door and a pounding in his head, mouth tasting like how the way the color grey looks.

He takes a gulp of water before sheepishly approaching the sound. _Knock, knock_.

“Um, hello?” He ventures.  


“Hey Kenma.” It was Kuroo, a nervousness clouding his tone. “Can I come in?”

Kenma stands in front of his wooden dorm door, the lights out, feeling the wood panels and a long pause between them like a tense slurry of unsaid words.

“I’ll come out there.” He finally says and opens the door and creeps out.

He keeps his face impassive as he addresses him, “hi.”

Kuroo rubs the back his neck, his hair was an even bigger mess than earlier, he had obviously been pulling on it.

“You’ve messed up your hair.” Kenam comments.

Kuroo shrugs, “it happens...Look, about today.”

Kenma hand waves him, but doesn’t quite find the words to silence the storm between them, Kenma a little boat upon the waves of uncertainty.

“I was just really excited, and you really are like,” he looks everywhere but at Kenma, “like brilliant. With the tip off.” He says haltingly.

Kenma stares off into space, “you would have figured it out without me.”

Kuroo’s eyes go wide, “that’s not true.”

“You just had to look closely.”

Kuroo shakes his head, “you just don’t get it, _you don't get it_ , but alright.”

Kenma shifts from foot to foot, “good game.” He says, at a loss for other words.

Kuroo bites his lip, “the kiss…” Kuroo's mouth moves up and down without saying anything.

“You were excited.” Kenma says bluntly.

“You walked away.” Kuroo states.

Kenma puts his hands in his pocket, “people were staring. I didn’t like that.”

“Of course.” Kuroo says as if he was just realizing it then.

“The kiss wasn’t...bad.” He mumbles to himself and Kuroo follows his lip movements.

“Really? Oh God,” the tension visibly releases from Kuroo’s shoulders, “I thought you were pissed at me.”

Kenma shakes his head, “it was really public...people will think we’re dating.” More mumbling.

Kuroo smiles, “good. Maybe our lives will have less drama.”

“You mean _your_ life.” He chuckles and glances up, “how’s Ayako?”

“Dude. Back with her boyfriend.” Kuroo flashes a tense smile.

“Thought so.”

“She said I was a terrible kisser, among other things, and broke up with me.” He says, obviously trying to joke.

Kenma doesn’t look at him, “you weren’t bad.”

Kuroo snorts, “why can’t I just date you?”

Kenma glances up, a sharpness hovering beneath the surface, “why can’t you?” It was almost a challenge.

Kuroo blinks, once, twice and then he is on Kenma.

Pushing him against the wall.

“Really?” His eyes are wide and mouth open like a void sucking in everything around it.

Kenma's face flushes, “I mean...I’ve always got it, that you don’t find me attractive like the others, and I’m not social--” Kuroo interrupts him with a kiss.

He moves his lips gently against Kenma’s and his hands pin Kenma’s wrists to the dorm walls.

“Shut up.” He stutters, weak in the voice and Kenma kisses him forcefully back.

It’s a searing mouth to mouth, with his chest heaving and pushed against his own and his clothes become oppressive and as heavy as irons as they make out in the open.

Kuroo sucks on his neck and Kenma lets a thin whine.

“Oh God yes.”  


Kenma bites his lip and buries his hand in Kuroo’s sticky frayed hair. He yanks.

Kuroo shivers and goes back to mashing their mouths together.

It was a heavy, breathless pace, shallow hip thrusts accompanying quick, intimate movement, Kenma is sweating and breathless when Kuroo pulls back.

“What…?” Kenma manages.

“This is...too fast.”

“ _What?_ ” Kenma searches Kuroo’s face, “you’ve had two booty calls in one night before.” With strangers or acquaintances.

A pain, or tenderness or something loose and bronze enters Kuroo’s eyes, “you’re my best friend.”

Kenma’s breath hitches in his throat and he suddenly isn't breath.

“I’ll be back.” Kuroo lets him go, Kenma slumps against the wall, almost falling all the way down.

Kenma watches him wave him off and enter the elevator, face red and clothes disheveled.

That was wild, is all Kenma can think. That was something else.

It felt like falling into place, or something finally spread flat, inevitable and yet all his senses were on fire.

He feels his neck, where he kissed him, where he touched him.

His hands are covered in the residue of hair gel, he goes to the bathroom, he washes them, once twice, then bites his lip and sits heavily on the stool.

He rubs his hands together, they were warm.

 


End file.
